Magic, New Mexico: Tainted Magic (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Sabine Priestley

  “You’re drained.”

  She nodded.

  He placed a kiss on the back of her head and stood, lifting her to her feet before scooping her up.

  He carried her into a small room at the end of the barn. “There’s frequently someone sleeping here if there’s a birth expected. Will this do?”

  “I just need an hour or two.”

  His gray eyes were rife with concern.

  “Stay with me.”

  That grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Just try and make me leave.”

  The cot was small. He laid her down, then crammed his frame against the wall and pulled her snug with his body.

  She’d never felt anything so good as she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 4

  Arabella woke in a cocoon of sensation. The heat of Dante against her back infused her entire body. She drifted on, in, and around his energy. A ripple signaled his awareness of her being awake.

  He ran his hand down her arm and entwined their fingers, the red and black of his ring a contrast to her pale skin. “How are you feeling?”

  Better than she ever had in her life. “Much improved. Thank you for staying. For helping.”

  “You never need thank me.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before withdrawing his energy and extracting himself from between her and the wall as he stood. He was giving her the space she needed, even as he extended his hand to help her up.

  “That was close, wasn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  He rubbed his chin in agitation. “What if I hadn’t been here?”

  She thought about it, massaging the small of her back. “I’m not sure. She would have died if I hadn’t helped her. I couldn’t let that happen without at least trying.”

  He wasn’t happy with the answer, but remained silent as he reached out and refastened her blue ribbon. It had come loose at some point and was a further contrast to the red of his ring.

  “I’d like to check on her.”

  He followed her out. “Don’t know if they’ll let you.”

  Blankets had been hung to provide a private space in the stall.

  Arabella stood outside the door, reaching out for the male she’d been communicating with. A moment later, a pale, thin man pulled back the blanket. Such a pale shade of blue, his eyes were nearly white. He unlatched the gate and swung it open for her. Only her.

  “Wait here.”

  Dante brushed the hair from her neck. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “It will be okay.”

  She stepped into the stall.

  Ten, no, twelve albinos gathered around the form of the woman. A few lay next to her, the others stood or knelt in a circle surrounding her. They were all stark naked.

  The male at her side placed a hand on her shoulder. Gratitude floated into her. Tanar. His name.

  “Arabella.” She spoke aloud for the others to hear. There was a significance in his telling her his name. Names held power for these people.

  Three of the others scooted back, clearing a path to the woman who lay at the center.

  Arabella stepped forward and knelt at the woman’s side. “Permission?” She sensed the woman’s awareness of her presence.

  Pale eyes fluttered open. A gut-wrenching wave of gratitude slammed into her.

  “Shhh. Save your energy.” She placed her palm over the woman’s cheek and closed her eyes. She would live. Her true scars would be emotional, but clearly she had support and love from those around her. “Rest.”

  She rose and let them be. She wasn’t needed any further.

  Dante waited for her outside by the Jeep. “Eventful day.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes in a truly un-ladylike manner. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Her jeans were muddied, her hands filthy. “I need to change.”

  “No. You’re perfect.” He winked at her and motioned for her to get in.

  Arabella ate in her room that night. She needed to explain to Dante why she was resisting their bond. Had to make him understand. But what, exactly?

  She’d never been so torn. Her need for him versus her duty to her people. It was awful. She didn’t have the answer, but she owed him the truth.

  After eating, she took her plates downstairs and cleaned up. She walked out to the back lawn and glanced up at the third floor of the annex.

  Dante lived there.

  A single light on a table by the couch was on. Unsure if he was home, she shifted and flew up to the balcony.

  She tapped on the sliders, but sensed nothing.

  Howls from wolves in the distance was her answer. She curled up on the couch outside and waited. He’d sense her presence when he returned. That was the way these things worked. Normally it would be a good thing. It was a good thing. But it wasn’t.

  She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Centering her energies and letting her tension dissipate.

  A wave of pleasure woke her. Dante stood before her wearing nothing but black cotton drawstring pants that sat low on his hips. Good god, the man was ripped. Every curve, every shadow defining his muscles.

  She stood quickly, a kink in her neck pinging. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He slid his hands into pockets, the bulge between unmistakable.

  “What are you doing here, sugar? You ready to rumble?”

  She wanted to be. Mother Goddess, how she wanted to be.

  “Turn around.” He spun her and massaged her shoulder muscles.

  She couldn’t stop the moan of pleasure as his energy engulfed her. Consumed her. Shredded her resolve.

  He slipped his fingers through her hair and tilted her head sideways. His lips burned on her neck. With a feather light touch, his teeth scraped along her collar bone. Her body shivered in response.

  “Say yes.” His voice was laced with the wolf within.

  She turned slowly. This was where her brain should kick in. Should stop her. Instead, she rose up on her toes and kissed him.

  He opened to her and the world went away.

  They were inside, his hands everywhere, touching, caressing.

  More. She waved her hand and stood naked in his arms.

  He froze, letting his gaze wander her body. A growl deep within resonated through her. He dropped his pants and the sight of him, throbbing and pulsing, fueled a fire already out of control.

  He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was wet and ready as she rubbed against his erection. Nothing was real; the dream played on as her body rode an energy eruption like never before.

  She was on her back a moment later and he slid inside. The sounds she made were elemental, primal, inescapable. She held to his shoulders as he found a rhythm that matched the insane pulsing of their energies.

  This wasn’t bodies; it was souls on fire. Her core tightened as the orgasm flirted with them. Teasing, taunting.

  Dante picked up the pace with an inhuman growl that resonated deep within.

  She spread her legs and grabbed his ass. “Don’t stop. Dante!” She cried out his name as the dam burst and she rode the orgasm. It didn’t dissipate. It rumbled on and on.

  He was right there with her, his cock throbbing inside her.

  Time stilled—or spun out of control, she didn’t know which. She came to her senses to find him staring down at her.

  “Are you okay?” He looked terrified. He was terrified.

  “Of course,” she ran her fingers along his jaw and down his neck. “Why?”

  “Sugar, you are so…slight. I feel like I could break you.”

  Arabella’s laugh exploded over and through Dante, low and husky.

  “You won’t break me.”

  Her laugh echoed inside him. He ran his finger over her lips. He’d never heard her laugh, never seen her smile like she was now. The feel of his shaft buried deep inside her was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. She was a home like no other.

  His breath punched out of his lungs with the realization he�
�d just had.

  She frowned. No way she could have missed that.

  “What just happened?” she asked.

  He shouldn’t tell her, but then why the fuck not? “I may not break you, but if you leave me, us, this, you will crush me.”

  Her eyes widened. Everything that had been perfect a moment earlier was off. Out of sync. Wrong.

  “We have to talk.” She struggled beneath him, and he withdrew and stood as quickly as he could.

  She rolled off the bed and was fully dressed before she was standing, the black fingerless glove and blue ribbon back in place.

  We have to talk. Those words were pretty damn universal. Fuck. This was not the way it was supposed to go. She felt everything he did. He knew it in his soul. So why was she still fighting this?

  “I’m sorry.” She ran her hand through her mussed hair. “I didn’t come here tonight for this. Damn it.” Her distress was written large on her face, not that he needed the visual.

  “Than let’s talk.” He turned and made his way to the living room to retrieve his pants.

  She followed behind.

  After pulling on his pants, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. “You want one?”

  “No. Thanks.”

  He popped the top and downed half of it. He didn’t care. Nothing she had to say was going to change how he felt about her. “So let’s hear it.” He took another pull and set the bottle down, crossing his arms.

  “Dante, I come from a coven in the UK.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s the Starfall coven.” She looked at him expectantly.

  He shrugged. “Something I’m supposed to know about that?”

  Her expression morphed into one of disbelief. “You’ve never heard of it?”

  “Sugar, I never much paid attention to witches until I had to marry one. And you see how that turned out.” He still hadn’t explained his situation to her, but he would.

  “You really don’t know.”

  He sensed the utter chaos coursing through her. And it scared him senseless. Surely nothing could be that bad?

  She paced, shaking her head. “I am the daughter of the High Priestess and Priest.” She stopped and faced him. This ribbon is a symbol of my position, my status. “We are the last remaining coven that is one hundred percent pure Wiccan. That is a core belief of my people.”

  His blood turned cold. Now he understood. Duty and honor, two things he lived by every fucking day with Hunter.

  He could never ask her to betray her family. And not just her family; her people.

  They stood for a long moment locked in a horrific wash of understanding. The swirl of their energies was tragically beautiful.

  He closed his eyes to break the contact. “We should have had this talk before.” But he was glad they hadn’t. He’d never forget tonight.

  He couldn’t meet her gaze. Not yet. Reigning in his energies, he shut them down. Locked behind a door that could never open again. Taking her by the upper arm, he walked them over to the sliders and slid them open.

  “Dante—”

  “Don’t. I get it now. I understand.” He dropped his arm to his side. No more touching her. “Go. I won’t bother you again. You have my word.”

  “But—”

  “Go.”

  Arabella stared at him for a moment, then shifted on the spin and soared away into the night, taking his heart with her.

  Panic, anger and shame fought for dominance as Arabella flew.

  Dante had done the right thing. Done what she couldn’t.

  Something inside her snapped. She couldn’t do it.

  This was a reality she could not live with.

  Her senses flared. There was a familiar presence nearby. She wasn’t alone. She could go there and stop the anguish tearing her to shreds. Stop the pain. It was the only answer, and too tempting to resist.

  She swooped down and shifted.

  The next day Dante skipped breakfast and went straight to his office. He hadn’t slept. His sheets smelled of Arabella. He was torn between the desire to shred them and never wash them again.

  It took everything he had to concentrate, but in the end, it would save him.

  Crystal arrived at eight o’clock as promised. They got her set up in the conference room across the hall. The room where Arabella should be.

  “So what are you thinking?” he asked Crystal. “What do you want to do?” He had to admit he was curious as to her change of heart. Twenty years and she’d never displayed an interest.

  “I think I’ll spend a few days getting to know the systems. It’s been a long time. I need to bring myself up to speed.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll have Tarn come in and give you a tour of the processes and software.”

  There was a softness in her eyes he hadn’t seen in years.

  The Fates sure liked to fuck with them sometimes.

  Later that afternoon, Tarn was at his door with a concerned look on his face.

  “What’s up?”

  “Have you seen Arabella? We had a meeting scheduled for four but she’s not at the barn.”

  She had to be as much of a mess as him. “Give her a day. She wasn’t feeling good yesterday. I’m sure she’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Ok. I’ll leave a message.” He started to go, but paused. “Crystal is catching on fast.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. She could be a help around here, especially with these new projects.”

  “Good to hear. Thank you.”

  Tarn rapped on the door frame and left. Arabella and Crystal. Two currents in his life. One forced, the other a necessity he couldn’t have. Fuck.

  Wings…tiny flitting minds…food…darkness…nothing.

  The following afternoon, Dante sat next to Crystal in the conference room. Not only had she reviewed the changes Arabella had instituted, she approved of them. Was, in fact, impressed.

  “She’s smart, that witch of yours.”

  Her words were a vice grip around his heart. “She’s not my witch.”

  Tarn knocked at the door frame. “Sorry to interrupt. Arabella was a no show again. And I never did hear back from her.”

  Dante had spent another sleepless night, but twice he’d sensed Arabella’s presence. Faint. He’d assumed she’d been shielding. “She’s around.”

  “I checked with Livy. She hasn’t seen her since day before yesterday.”

  “That’s not right.” He stood. “Has anyone checked her room?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Check with everyone at the Inn. I’m going to her room.” He knew, somehow, it was going to be empty.

  “I’m coming with you,” Crystal said.

  He didn't argue.

  Crystal stopped them halfway across the lawn with a touch to his arm. There was nothing in that touch that spoke of a previous marriage, but her concern was clear.”

  “Do you know where she comes from? Her coven?” Crystal asked.

  “She told me the other night.” The night they’d consummated this thing between them. The night he’d sent her away. The last night he'd seen her.

  “She told you what that meant?”

  “Yes, damn it. What’s your point?”

  She tilted her head on that perfect neck. “What did you say to her?”

  “It’s more what she said to me. I get it. She can’t betray her people, and I would never ask that of her.”

  “Just like you would never betray your Alpha.”

  “Exactly.”

  They made their way to Arabella’s door. He knocked repeatedly, to no answer. A growl emanated from his wolf and he twisted the knob to breaking point before shouldering the door open.

  The bed was made and Arabella’s laptop sat on the small desk by the window. A pair of yoga pants lay draped across the comforter.

  “When did you last see her?” Crystal asked.

  “Two nights ago.”

  “What time?”

  He’d gotte
n back from his run around midnight. Then…he could still feel the heat of her surrounding him… “Two, three in the morning, maybe?”

  “You told Tarn she’s around. How do you know?” Her concern had both him and his wolf listening.

  “I sensed her last night. A couple of times.” Sensed her in a way he’d never done with Crystal.

  “Did it feel right?”

  “What?”

  She crossed her arms. “This is important. Did it feel right? Normal?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’re both kind of messed up right now.”

  “You told her no.”

  The pain of that still burned. “Something like that.”

  “Do you not realize what you have with her?”

  “Excuse me?” He damn near lashed out at her. “You’re a witch. You of all people must understand the position she’s in.”

  “I understand all right. Your witch is in trouble.” Crystal spun and headed for the door.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  “To the coven. She needs help. Meet me there.” She disappeared in a wisp of smoke.

  Normally he’d drive, but he’d be able to cover the distance faster cross country as a wolf than on the roads.

  Dante shifted, and ran. He approached the coven on the outskirts of Haven with apprehension. The only time he’d been around so many witches was on his wedding day, and that had lasted all of the twenty-eight minutes it took them to complete the ceremony. There was no attempt to hide the fact that neither of them were anything but dutiful.

  Circe herself opened the door on his approach to the steps. She held out a pair of jeans, a knowing smile on her lips. Did every damn witch in the world know what was going on between him and Arabella?

  He shifted, climbed the steps, and slipped on the jeans.

  “This way,” Circe said.

  The mix of artifacts and colors of the figurines and paintings felt like a five-year-old had been given carte blanch in every gallery in the world.

  They entered the kitchen to a somber mood. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s with the bats,” Crystal said.

  Damn witches. “What does that mean?”

  “Bat crazy,” an old woman with fire in her eyes and wild hair stared at Dante.